


Understanding

by Kahvi, Roadstergal



Series: Catcall/Understanding Series [2]
Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:06:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kahvi/pseuds/Kahvi, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadstergal/pseuds/Roadstergal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Rimmer and Lister soon learns, having sex rarely solves any problems, nor is it a magic wand that establishes relationships. It's rather good, though, and Lister, for one, would like to keep having it. Unfortunately, there is Kryten's fear of abandonment and Rimmer's neuroses to consider...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lister slicked his close-cropped hair back unnecessarily as he entered Starbug’s mid-section from the cockpit. As expected, Kryten stood there by the table, a covered dish of what was presumably Lister’s dinner in his hands. The mechanoid was clearly trying his best to appear cheerfully disposed, but the way his left eyelid kept fluttering up and down in time with the tapping of his leg on the same side easily gave him away. Lister sighed, and mentally steeled himself. This wasn’t going to be easy. “’Evening, Krytes,” he grinned, sitting down. “What’s for dinner?”

The mechanoid gave a fleeting smile, and set the dish down in front of Lister, lifting the cover with some ceremony. “Tuna casserole, Sir,” he mumbled. We found quite a few cans on… On the… Where...” Giving up on words, he briefly resorted to hand-gestures, before deflating slightly, his rectangular lower lip quivering.

“Hey now, man,” Lister said in carefully measured sympathy. “What’s the matter?”

“Well…” Android feet shuffled themselves with some difficulty. “It’s just… You and Mr. Rimmer, Sir.” The latter’s name was pronounced with clear distaste, as though Kryten were apologizing for the lack of quality garnishing on tonight’s meal.

Lister picked up his fork, and speared a good chuck full of what would doubtlessly turn out to be tasty foodstuff. Kryten was a capable cook. “What about us?”

The shaking of Kryten’s lower lip increased, and Lister felt a little guilty. No matter; this had to be done nonchalantly, or not at all. There was an art to these things, after all. “You…” The mechanoid stuttered, “you…”

“Oh, that!” Unable to stand any more, Lister leapt to the rescue. Adopting a shocked and confused expression, he exclaimed, after a measured pause; “Hang on… You didn’t think we was… Oh smeg, Kryten, tell me you didn’t think that!”

“Oh, no, Sir!” Kryten almost shouted happily. “I wouldn’t dream of… erm… whatever it was you think I was suggesting!” Hope mixed with curiosity, tinted with a helping of fear adorned his features.

“Well, I know you heard Cat explain what the place was for, and I just thought you might’ve jumped to the wrong conclusion, like,” Lister explained, radiating innocence.

“Why, pshaw! Whatever gave you that crazy idea?” Kryten, while obviously relieved, did still not seem entirely placated.

“Well yeah,” Lister said, moving in for the kill, “could you imagine me kissing Rimmer, eh? Much less,” here, he gave an almost exaggerated shudder, “anything _else_ …”

Kryten shook his head. “As you say, Sir, it is quite unthinkable.”

“Too right! Of course, we did try to fool the sensors. You know, that they tricked us into thinking was there?”

“Oh, yes?” There was nothing but keen interest in the mechanoid’s eyes now, and Lister, encouraged, trudged on.

“So we tried to make it _look_ like we was kissing, you know, by standing close and,” another shudder, “making the motions and that. Didn’t work of course, but we weren’t to know that.”

“And was that how your clothes were damaged?” Ah, now the suggestions came. Lister had all but won. It’d be easy to just accept the presented scenario, but Lister took his lying seriously.

“No, that was afterwards, when we started fighting.”

“Fighting?”

“Yeah, you know me and him; put us in close quarters and we go for each other’s throat sooner or later.” Lister ate another forkful, feeling rather less than hungry.

“I see,” Kryten mused. “What were you fighting about?”

“Oh, just some stupid thing, I can’t even remember. He was probably trying to raise our spirits by singing one of them Hammond tunes he likes.” Lister gave Kryten a knowing wink. These tended to do the trick. “You know what he’s like; doesn’t take much for him to annoy a man!”

“That’s certainly true, Sir,” Kryten nodded, opening one of the cans of beer he’d been fidgeting with at the end of the table, and handing it to Lister. And that was it. Mission accomplished. The two of them spent the rest of the meal chatting amiably about Rimmer’s bad habits and quirks, never noticing the silhouette of a tall, slightly hunched-over man watching them from the hallway.

Certainly, when Lister turned that way as he was leaving, there was nothing there anymore.

 

Rimmer sat on a flat foam pallet in the narrow rectangular gash in the stark grey wall that served as his bunk, rubbing his hands together and worrying his lower lip with his teeth. He looked at the bare, grey walls of his quarters, feeling equally bare and equally grey. He stared at the solitary chair and table, all right angles and the same shade as the walls, and dared them to try to talk him out of his foul mood. Unsurprisingly, they did not try. Rimmer decided that he really should not feel surprise at the conversation he had just overheard. After all, that was Lister's way, wasn't it? To dangle affection like a lure on a rod, then flip it out of reach when you took a grab. Boredom in space will do that; others' emotions really are terribly amusing playthings, aren't they?

Git.

He rubbed his hands together and stared at the bare grey walls. His mind was stuck firmly in a looptrack, and with every loop, his ire at Lister grew, for sticking him in such a bloody dull looptrack.

The track was disrupted by a staccato knock. He flashed an irritated look at the featureless sliding door to his left, matching it with an equally irritated query.

"What?"

"Hey, man..." a familiar blasted chirpy voice sounded from the other side of the door. "'s me."

"Yes, I do very well in voice recognition, Listy," Rimmer growled.

"Go on, open up, then." The cheerful tones grated down Rimmer's spine like some wretched kitchen implement intended for cheese.

"I'm terribly busy right now." Rimmer did not move from his bunk, and instead contemplated the many things he could say he was doing that would be preferable to a conversation with Lister. Ripping out his toenails one by one ranked very high.

"Eh?" came the somewhat confused reply.

"Don't you have something you very much need to be doing right now?" Rimmer wondered if he would have to attach a hint to a very large sledgehammer to get it through Lister's skull.

There was a slight hesitation. "No..."

Perhaps he would. "Oh, I doubt that." Rimmer could not keep an unmanly whine from creeping into his tone of voice, and decided that could be Lister's fault, as well. "I'm sure you can while away another few hours discussing my faults. So diverse, they are. _Fascinating_ , I know."

Lister sounded very confused. "Wha? Rimmer, come on, man! Let us in!"

Rimmer sighed and chewed on his lip for a few more seconds. The git was not going to go away until he spit out whatever was on his mind. Well, barring an impressive balancing act, Rimmer decided, it would not be something terribly large. He hauled himself to his feet, stomped to the door, and slapped the worn red Door Open button with unnecessary violence. He stood in such a way as to block entry, and brought out Glare 754 - eyes narrowed, lips slightly sucked in and leveled to a perfect horizontal, forehead furrowed, neck muscles tense. It was a doozy, and he kept it tucked away and polished for special occasions.

Lister grinned widely as the door finally opened, not really surprised by Rimmer's expression. Who could keep track of the man's moods, anyway? Well, he could probably think of a thing or two to cheer him up... That's why he was here, after all. It'd only be natural for them to be bunking together now, and Kryten wouldn't think twice if Lister threw him a line about something or other. This evening's success had rather invigorated Lister, who felt a renewed sense of accomplishment.

The git was wearing the stupid chipper grin that sang a note of talons on blackboard to Rimmer. "What is so bloody smegging important?"

Lister couldn't help but take a step backwards at Rimmer's harsh tones. This was somewhat worse than expected. Still... "Hey, there ya are!" He tried his best to keep cheerful. "I just wanted to talk. You know, figured we ought." Yeah, talk... And then later... God, the man turned him on. He'd been aching to get his hands on him again ever since they left the Cat city.

"Talk?" Rimmer heard his voice grow high-pitched with indignation. What the smeg? "You want to _talk_? I thought it didn't take much of me to annoy a man, squire."

Lister craned his neck to catch a glimpse of what little could be seen of the room. As the doorway was filled with a taller man with his arms crossed, that was very little indeed. "Hey, I haven't even seen yer room before, at that."

"It's a room," Rimmer snarled. "Four walls. A ceiling. A floor." No windows.

"A... Ri.." Lister tasted the names, uncertain of what would fit the situation. Certainly Rimmer's demeanor did not invite intimacy. Well, there went this evening's entertainment. "Rimmer, what's wrong?"

So Lister was going to play this out. He was _pretending_ that he hadn't schtupped Rimmer in one breath and derided him to Kryten with the next. Rimmer put on a plasticine grin and a patently phony cheerful voice to match "Nothing! Everything's lovely, I hear, miladdio!"

Was Rimmer being serious or not? Even after spending years in close quarters with the man, Lister found himself unable to access his, as Lister saw it, wholly alien thought processes at times. This was certainly such a time. "Oh, eh?"

Rimmer grated his teeth and kept up the faux cheer. "You're out of that room and back on Starbug; what could be better?"

"Yeah, well done us, eh?" Lister grinned. He shuffled his feet.

This was just too much. He _expected_ Rimmer to play along. "Yes, _very_ self-sacrificing of you," Rimmer snapped. He couldn't look at that smegging chirpy gerbil face anymore. He turned and flopped on his bunk with an aggravated sigh.

Sulking, now? What was he; a menopausal woman? Lister swore under his breath, and welcomed the opportunity to storm inside the room. Rimmer stared firmly at the ceiling of his bunk, and Lister glared at him, irritation flooding his system. "Look, what's the problem?"

"There's no problem at all, matey!" Rimmer was scraping the bottom of the barrel of false cheer. The dregs were very sour.

"Clearly there's a problem, because..." In mid-sentence, Lister noticed something odd about the surrounding area, and his voice faded. He frowned, trying to place what was wrong. His eyes took in the bare, blank, uniformly grey walls, broken only by the door, the bunk, and the undecorated stark grey lockers. The gaping, glaring _absence_ of anything non-utilitarian was a punch in the gut. And frankly, there wasn't much that _was_ utiltarian, either. Rimmer's eternally read and un-understood astronavigation book sat next to the electronic book he had used when soft-light on the stark grey table, both lined up to the edges of the table with anal-retentive precision. No other possessions were visible, not even the timetables and No Smoking signs that he surely would have been able to re-create by now. It was like being inside a empty cardboard box of doughnuts, knowing someone else had eaten them all. There was the same, hollow, deprived feeling. Lister could only stare, dumbstruck.

"You made the motions..." Rimmer snarled.

Lister did not hear a word. He slipped open the locker, seeing the one pitiful attempt at 'decoration' - a picture of Rimmer's family, his parents and three brothers, at some fancy-dress event, all staring disdainfully at the unseen camera-holder. Lister's face fell more and more. Who could live like this? How could anyone live like this? He felt tears welling up in his eyes, blinking them back, not confused by the mixture of anger and sadness.

Rimmer flopped his head over to look at Lister, irate at the git's intrusive poking. The bum's back was to him. "What do you _want_ , Lister?"

Lister turned and looked Rimmer in the eyes. "What's _with_ this place, man?" Maybe it was a mistake. It had to be. This couldn't be someone's room; it had to be a spare. Somewhere there had to be a room where Rimmer's infantile newspaper-clippings adorned the wall above his bed; Lister knew they had magazines, and a host of scissors. This had to be wrong.

Rimmer frowned. "I _live_ here, Lister. Despite what you might think, I do not sleep in a coffin and only emerge at night."

This place _is_ a coffin, Lister mused. "Have you been here all this time?"

"No, I've been in Murmansk. The weather isn't much to brag about, but the culture and historical heritage are simply marvelous!"

"Here?" Lister repeated, as if he had not heard. He swept the room with his eyes again, clutching his forehead, and biting his lip. This was Rimmer's room? This... soulless place?

He could ramble on about Rimmer's failings if he wanted, but Rimmer was damned if his was going to let the gimboid insult his room in the bargain. "If it doesn't suit your aesthetic sensibilities, bugger off to somewhere that does."

Lister's voice could have been caring or could have been pitying. Neither of which went with Rimmer's mood. "No, that's not what I mean..."

"Are you going to _get_ to what you mean, or are you going to nanner on and waste my evening?" He had sod-all planned this evening, but he reserved the right to do sod-all without disruptions of a Listery nature.

"I mean... It's not right, a man... living like this." Lister reached out and touched the gray surface of the locker with a hesitant finger. Nothing, he thought, absent-mindedly. Nothing at all. It was as insubstantial as Rimmer's soft-light body had been.

"It's not living, Lister!" How many times did he have to remind the goit? Was the stupid smegging H stuck right on his forehead not enough?

Too right, Lister thought, on the verge of crying now, his voice a croak as he blurted out; "I know!"

Rimmer sighed and sat up. "Lister..." he said, taking a breath. " _What the smeg do you want_?" he shouted.

This was too much. Lister stumbled back, trying to clear his head. Why was he so upset? Not that this room couldn't do that to someone... "Look, yer obviously upset..."

Rimmer's annoyance brought the pitch of his voice up close to the territory where only canines would hear it. "Really??"

This was no use. Drying his eyes on his sleeve, trying very hard to make it look like he was only scratching an itch, Lister resigned. "I'll get out of yer hair..." He couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice. This was, after all, exactly what he'd feared; what he'd dreaded and at the same time had known, deep inside, would happen. Rejection. Denial. "I just wanted to... Well. Never mind." He half-turned towards the door, and stopped for a minute to clear his mind.

Rimmer flopped back on bunk and stared pointedly at the ceiling. Yes, please, he thought. Get out. I could not care less about what you _want_.

Unfortunately, clearing his mind only meant Lister began to dwell on the unpleasant truth of his situation. All for nothing. That whole ordeal; hours of cajoling and convincing, reassurance and re-reassurance, and what? Nothing? How did Rimmer's mind work? How did his _heart_ work? "Just one thing..." he said, then swallowed. "You never said anything." He looked helplessly at Rimmer. Lister didn't like to give up on hope, even when it seemed like the most stupid and pointless thing in the universe to do so. "I don't know... I mean... do you still..."

Rimmer's voice was flat and emotionless. He had nothing he wanted to put into it. "Do I still what."

Lister searched Rimmer's profile for confirmation of any kind of positive feelings. He bit nervously at his lower lip, almost nibbling.

Rimmer flopped his head over again to face Lister as the silence persisted. He waited for the rest of the sentence.

Nothing. As empty and soulless as the walls around them. Fair enough. Well, no, not bloody fair, but what could you do? Lister's voice went as flat as Rimmer's had, feeling as though he were made of dull, grey metal. "Right. Never mind. I'm off then."

"Have fun," Rimmer grated. He felt he deserved a parting shot. "You always do."

"Whatever."

"Go have sex with something. Something less annoying, preferably."

Lister turned, his hand hovering over the Door Open button. "What?"

Rimmer sulked in his bunk.

Lister pulled off his hat, tearing at his hair. What was this, an emotional roller-coaster competition? "Look, yer giving me rather mixed signals here, guy!"

The conversation up to that point had fretted Rimmer's nerve-strings, and that pluck sounded a perfect chord of fury. He leapt off of the bed, enraged, and stomped to where Lister stood. " _Mixed signals_?" he bellowed. "That's rich, you know, really bloody rich."

Startled and not a little afraid, despite himself, Lister backed up until his back met the door.

"Coming from the man who said he loved me on the psi-moon and then said it was all a _huge_ joke."

"Wha?" Lister stuttered, completely taken aback. They'd been over that! He was about to say something to that effect, when Rimmer's voice boomed again.

"Coming from the man who shagged me and then whinged to Kryten about what a bloody pain in the arse I am."

Lister's expression quietly changed from "What?" to "Oh, sodding smeg," as his coloring changed from pale tan to light olive green.

"Who he wouldn't dream of kissing me unless it was a particularly bad dream. Let _alone_..." he stammered to a halt, the words sticking in his throat. The lying, two-faced bastard just wanted to make sure that his double-dealing was _OK_ with Rimmer, did he. Well, it was not. It was at a place where OK was not even visible. He glared at Lister with his fists clenched, his body trembling. He took two choking breaths.

"Oh..." Lister said, lamely. He had not been prepared for this.

'Oh.' What a lovely response. Explained everything, it did. Made it all better. Rimmer regained enough motor control to stalk back to his bunk and flop on it, stiff as a board. "Smeg off, vindaloo brains."

Lister was at a complete and utter loss for words. He opened his mouth, about to speak, but looked at Rimmer and thought better of it. This was something even he couldn't talk his way out of.

Rimmer bit his lip as he stared at bunk's ceiling. Damn it, he would not cry. How old was he? Thirty-four? Two hundred and thirty-four? Three million, two hundred and thirty-four? Too old for adolescent mush, certainly. And far too old for these adolescent games Lister was determined to play.

Lister sighed deeply, turned, and put his finger on the Door Open button. He desperately wanted to say something, but was too shaken by that last outburst of Rimmer's. What could he say, anyway? He shook his shoulders and pressed the button.

"See ya around," he said, trying not to think about anything in particular, lest it color his voice. "Arn..." he added, with a hitch in his voice that sounded too much like the hitch he had when he had breathed that "Arn," into Rimmer's ear in the Cat-room. He left, and Rimmer let out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Lister hadn't slept much in the last few days. When he hadn't tossed and turned, trying not to think about the sordid mess his non-relationship with Arn - no, Rimmer, definitely Rimmer, now - was, he found himself biting his pillow as he stroked himself to a rather dull and unsatisfying orgasm, trying to picture Rimmer's face as it had been in that dusky room. The hologram had been beautiful then; beyond beautiful. Afterwards, he'd invariably sit up in frustration and something akin to shame, wrapping the blankets around himself, and fishing around under his bunk for the bottle of whiskey he'd hidden there. By the end of the week, it had been empty for quite a while. He still fished it out, though, staring at the dark brown glass as though it could offer any helpful suggestions.

The Cat seemed to notice the unspoken tension - unlike Kryten, who merely seemed relieved that his Mister Lister was not doing the horizontal mambo with Mister Rimmer after all. All three non-mechanicals welcomed the prospect of a distraction from the tension in the form of looting, when it was presented as a luxury liner. It was a fully functional ghost ship, whose crew had apparently been wiped out by some sort of GELF bioweapon - which had, according to the psi-scan, completely evaporated by now, Kryten assured them. For once, Rimmer didn't protest at the proposed mission, as food-stocks were getting dangerously low, and meals had been reduced to two a day. Lister didn't much care; he found he didn't have much of an appetite anyway. Nevertheless, they couldn't go on like this indefinitely.

Once he'd realized the potential for picking up beauty-aids and material for clothes, the Cat insisted on going the long route to the kitchens via the boutique section. Knowing the risk of stuck-in-front-of-mirror-syndrome this entailed, Kryten had grudgingly agreed to go with him. There were times when only the mechanoid's super-human strength could pry the feline away from his own reflection. And thus, Rimmer and Lister found themselves at close quarters for the first time in days, hemming and hawing and looking at anything but one another. Eventually, they picked a corridor at random, lacking both the energy and motivation to discuss the matter of eventual destination.

Rimmer stalked down the opulent corridor, fiddling with the empty bag slung over his shoulder. The plush carpet soaked up the sound of his bootfalls, and the warm tones and gentle patterns of the 3D wallpaper did not lend themselves to a proper stalk. He set his mouth and very pointedly did not look at Lister.

Lister sighed, looking at the rather luxurious walls. He trailed one finger along the lovely swirls of the 3D wallpaper, considering, gloomily, the difference between this gentle softness and the relentless harshness of Rimmer's room.

Despite his firm look-ahead position, Rimmer could not help seeing Lister's antics out of the corner of his eye. "Don't play with it. We're looking for food, Listy, not decor."

Lister glared. So he was worth talking to now, then, when Rimmer was annoyed at something. "How would you know? Done much wallpaperin' then, have you? I'm not gonna hurt it, and it's not gonna hurt me."

"I've done enough to know it's not edible," Rimmer snapped. "And that's the mission today, in case you've forgotten."

"Yeah, yeah." Lister dragged his feet. Maybe this was all they were capable of after all, he sighed internally. Sniping and bickering and fighting. God knows they were good at it!

Rimmer strode down the corridor as quickly as he could make a walk go. For once, he had little enough to worry about from the ship; there is not much hazardous allowed aboard a luxury liner, as a rule. He ignored the passenger cabin doors on either side. He was not interested in someone else's plush vacation getaway, a more-successful and happier-in-life-than-Arnie someone.

Door by door passed them by, and Lister gazed longingly at them all. He was desperate for a change; any kind of change. Normally, lush scenery like this would ease his mind, but today it only made him gloomier. A considerable gap soon formed between him and Rimmer, much as it had emotionally, Lister thought sarcastically.

Rimmer stopped, irritated, and turned back to Lister. "Lister, this is not smegging playtime."

"I know..." Lister answered, annoyed to hear himself sounding like a sulky child.

Rimmer could not help thinking back to the conversation he had overheard. The blasted thing would not exit his mind, and he worried at it like a dog would worry at an infected sore. "I know you love time with me as much as time having your teeth drilled, so let's get this over with." God, that sounded whiney. He threw in an "And I assure you, the feeling is mutual," for good measure. He turned on the toe of his boot and continued down the corridor.

Walking steadily but reluctantly behind his self-proclaimed superior officer, Lister couldn't help but look at Rimmer's back as they walked, considering how it would look without that uniform in the way. How those trousers could easily be slid off that taut rear, how someone could ease their hands around beneath the starched underwear underneath, and... But there was no joy in his reverie; his thoughts were too tinged with sadness to be a mere optical undressing. He shook his head.

Rimmer stalked on, oblivious to Lister's stare. He soon hit a dead end, and stopped. A larger door than the ones they had been passing stood in front of him. He looked for labels or signs, and found none.

Lister perked up. Finally, something different. Something to think about other than Rimmer's smegging tempting arse. He walked up to the door and tried the handle.

"Food stores are usually labeled as such," Rimmer chided. Lister and his playthings. _Everything_ was a plaything, in Listerworld. Derelicts. Bioweapons. Other people.

The handle broke away in Lister's hand. He almost smiled. Rimmer rolled his eyes at Lister's neverending talent for destruction. "Nice going."

Lister looked goofily on as the door slowly drifted open. This had to be one of the swanky suites, he reasoned, feeling a hopeful thrill of excitement. Rimmer shouldered his way into the opening and looked in, warily. It looked just like a passenger cabin - a very large, opulent passenger cabin. He shrugged. “Nothing there." He turned to leave.

Eager curiosity shining in his eyes, Lister began to walk inside, ignoring the hologram's comment. He nearly choked when Rimmer suddenly reached out and grabbed Lister roughly by the scruff of his jacket. Lister jerked at the grip. "Hey! Gerroff!"

Rimmer leaned down and hissed into Lister's ear, "Have you learned _nothing_ about walking into strange rooms?"

Way to go, smeghead, Lister fumed internally, remembering his overheard conversation with Kryten with a pain like a punch in the gut. "All right..." he said, weakly. Rimmer let go of his jacket, and Lister shook it, somewhat offended.

"This door's not closing on us..." he quickly amended the thought, "...me anytime soon, though." He kicked at the threadbare door as though to demonstrate, and a good-sized chunk of it broke clean off.

"Fine," Rimmer replied. The bum could kick the door down completely, for all he cared. He didn't trust Lister one bit. He stood outside of the room, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. His boot made no noise on the plush carpet, and he grimaced.

Lister, straightening his jacket, walked back into the room. His excited voice drifted out of the doorway. "Whoa.... It's like a whole flat, this! Me nan lived in one not much larger. I think there's even a kitchen!"

Rimmer sighed and examined his nails.

A rustling sound came from within, as though someone was wading through a host of plastic bags. "Stocked cabinets - there's some canned goods here, man!"

Rimmer sighed and walked in to the sound of more rustling, and an "Oooh!" There was indeed a kitchen, just past a room with an inch-high pile carpet in an easily-stained soft cream color and a bed about the size of their original quarters on Red Dwarf, covered with bedclothes that screamed high-count and piled with pillows that looked rather a lot like red silk. The kitchen was set off from this main sleeping room. It was finished in pristine white linoleum and brushed aluminum; a white marble counter, shot with grey, covered the lower cabinets. Lister's rear end was visible behind the open door of a cabinet set below the counter. His grinning head emerged as Rimmer walked into the kitchen. "Marijuana gin, guy!" He waved the bottle cheerfully.

"I'm not going to carry you back, Lister." Rimmer pulled open the cabinets, taking what canned goods he found and stuffing them into his bag. He was pleased to note that there were a number of cans of pickled sprouts.

"I'm not gonna drink it now, smeghead!" Lister replied, feeling all the better for having annoyed the other man. He stuck the bottle under his arm.

"Good," Rimmer grated. "You might end up doing something else you regret later." Lister did not seem to notice this rejoinder, and Rimmer slammed the cabinet doors shut.

Lister stuck his head back into what was clearly intended to be a mini-bar, although its size belied the name. "No good... No good..." Empty cans and open portion-control bags of nuts came flying out, several of them hitting Rimmer's boots and shins.

Rimmer thrust the last two cans into his sack, and walked back out to the main room. Bloody booze-obsessed space bum. If he gets tanked, Rimmer thought, I swear I will leave him here. Not that he'd probably mind.

Lister emerged from the kitchen a moment later, somewhat subdued. "Nothing else. Oh well." He walked over to the luxurious bed, giving it a longing look. He couldn't remember the last night that he'd slept all the way through.

Rimmer looked on with impatience. "This isn't naptime."

The bed really was stupidly big. Going down on all fours, Lister peered underneath the impressive, overhanging coverlet. "You could sleep underneath this!"

"No, _you_ could sleep underneath that," Rimmer scoffed.

"If I wanted to." Lister shrugged. Any kind of sleep was tempting at this point.

"Are you quite done?"

Lister stood up and stretched, eyeing the bed. Oh, what the hell. If anything, it would annoy Rimmer. He threw himself down on it, noisily.

Dear lord. Rimmer was not in the mood for Lister's gadding. "Lister, we are leaving now." He enunciated each word excessively.

"I'm having a lie-down," Lister said, stretching out. "We've been walking for _hours_."

Rimmer folded his arms. "I'm not going to wait for you." He started to count down from ten.

"What're you gonna do then, roam around on yer own?" Lister asked. He looked up at Rimmer and added, evilly, "What about that GELF mutagen? Can't be all gone after just a few thousand years? Bound to be some left around here somewhere, eh?" He took off his hat, and threw it in Rimmer's direction, aiming, perhaps subconsciously, at his crotch.

Rimmer sighed. A who's-more-stubborn contest between him and Lister was usually a tossup, but he was unusually on edge, and for no reason he could put his finger on, he just felt _tired_. "You're a git."

Lister chuckled and patted the bed. "Come on, sit yerself down for two seconds."

Share a bed with the two-faced goit. Rimmer would sooner share a toothbrush with their old testicle-loving family dog. He leaned against the wall, slitting his eyes in a way that he hoped indicated righteous irritation. "Cat is the one who likes the naps. Why don't you bugger off with him?"

The bed felt like heaven after months of sleeping on bunks that were, after all, intended only for temporary use. Lister let himself sink down into it, his legs dangling over the edge, feet barely touching the floor. "'Cause I don't like taking mirror breaks every smegging five minutes."

"And I don't like to take slob-off or poke-around breaks on the same schedule."

Patting the bed again, Lister stifled a yawn. "Come _on_ ," he sighed.

Lister's positioning was sending messages to Rimmer's body that his brain was desperately trying to countermand. His body remembered their antics in the Cat-room, and eagerly anticipated a repeat. His brain remembered everything that happened afterwards, and sent dire warnings to his body that it paid too little attention to. "What are you looking for, Lister?" Rimmer barked. "A snog? A blow?"

Taken entirely by surprise, Lister raised himself up on his elbows.

"That you can joke about afterwards with Kryten?"

"No..." Lister responded, hesitantly. "I was just having a lie down. And offering you the same."

"Then lie down," Rimmer growled. "Don't drag me into it."

Lister flopped down again. "Fine," he said, slightly angrily. "You've made your feelings clear, at any rate. Dunno why I even bother," he mumbled sourly.

"You made yours clear, Listy. Mine don't factor into it, do they?" When had he ever had a say in this? Trapped into... what they had done in the Cat-room, then tossed off after Lister had what he wanted.

"What... Ever." Lister was annoyed to notice that he no longer felt the least bit tired.

"I'm just an appliance, after all - some kind of hard-light sex aid with a malfunctioning off switch." Parts of his body sounded their approval to this arrangement. The rest of him found this pathetic. How desperate was he, after all, to grasp at this phony when-it-suits Lister affection?

Lister furrowed his brow at this. "What?" He raised himself up off of the bed, looking at Rimmer. The hologram had his arms folded and his eyes downcast as he leaned against the lovely wallpaper. Lister coughed. "Maybe..." he said, awkwardly. "Maybe we should talk."

What a smegging terrific idea. "Talk," Rimmer grated. "About what? The weather?" He pretended to look out of an invisible window. "Starry tomorrow, with continued vacuum."

Lister rolled his eyes and groaned. "You know what about."

Rimmer bulldozed over that. "0% chance of showers - this _is_ Lister."

Out come the shower jokes, Lister fumed to himself. Always with the smegging shower jokes. A little louder than he had intended, he shouted, irritably "You _know_ what _about_!"

Rimmer's lips twisted. "Perhaps about being locked in a room with me? Well, I'm not the best person to talk to about that, Listy. You see, I'm not sure exactly what happened."

Lister pushed himself to a full upright position on the edge of the bed. Now what, he thought, wearily.

Rimmer looked straight at Lister now, and waved his index finger. There was no way to stop what was coming out. "You see, _I_ remember kissing and sex. _You_ seem to remember a brawl."

Lister swallowed. "Yeah," he answered lamely. "There was that."

"There was _what_? Could you give me a play-by-play so I know what I should be remembering?"

Scratching the back of his neck, Lister tried to explain. "No, I mean... you must have heard me talking to Kryten."

"Really, Lister! Did you figure that one out yourself?" He must have. It certainly took smegging long enough.

"You weren't supposed to."

So now it is _my_ fault, Rimmer thought, fuming. "Yes, you need to be a little more circumspect about who you lie to." He looked Lister straight in those insincerely innocent brown eyes. "Me or him?"

"Wha?" Lister raised an eyebrow. He couldn't be thinking...

"Who were you lying to?" Rimmer asked, frustrated.

"You mean you don't..." Lister stopped as it suddenly struck him. "Aw, smegging hell, man..."

"Am I the most annoying man in creation," Rimmer asked, "or am I a tolerable snog?"

"I thought... I thought..." Lister hesitated. The honest reply wasn't applicable, as it was 'none of the above', yet both. Rimmer _was_ the most annoying man Lister had ever met, by very far, but oh... was he ever a good lay! Somehow though, Lister doubted that saying this would help the situation. "No, wait, I didn't think." He slapped his head.

Rimmer put one finger to his lips. "Weeeeell. Why start now?" The war between his body and his brain was reaching a fever pitch. "There's nothing out here to have sex with but me and a pudding, and you're ashamed to admit you've been bonking either."

"A..." Lister tried to change this to an "Ahem" It didn't quite work, coming out as a sort of "Ahrnm". Hoping Rimmer would blame the extra syllables on his accent, he went on; "I'm sorry... I was an idiot. I thought I was doing what you wanted; thought I was helpin' ya."

" _Helping_ me?" Rimmer pushed himself off of the wall, letting the anger flood him, letting it flush away the lust and the need that were scratching at his insides. "How _kind_ of you, Listy!" Lister crawled sideways towards the headboard, appearing to cower, and Rimmer pushed ahead, glaring at the shorter man. "Fucking me and then telling Kryten what a bastard I am - what a _help_ you are! Please, don't _help_ me again..." the anger began to drain out of him; his throat thickened, and he could barely spit out, "I couldn't take it."

Covering his head in his hands, Lister leaned back against the mattress. "I know... I know... I'm a smeg-brained idiot. It's just... well..." He looked up, hesitatingly. "You never said, did you?"

"I never said what?" Rimmer asked, backing up to the wall again, his energy gone.

"What you wanted." Lister looked away. "How was I to know, eh? I did ask..."

"I didn't say anything. And you decided to deny it all." Rimmer felt deflated, the anger drained, the righteousness punctured like Lister's short-lived 15-centimeter champion gum bubble.

"Me?" Lister looked up quickly. He wanted to laugh, the idea was so absurd. Was that was this was about? "God, no." He stood up, and stepped away from the bed. Seeing Rimmer standing there, something stirred inside him, like a dam filled with lust, affection and desire, all flowing out into his body, making him warm and tingly.

Rimmer looked down, crossing his hands in front of him. The full bag slid off of his shoulder and fell to the plush carpet, clanking mutedly.

"You..." Lister swallowed. "I'd broadcast me love for you to the universe, if you'd let me." He moved closer, wishing he hadn't said that. What sappy nonsense. It annoyed him to the core that it was utterly, absolutely true.

Rimmer could feel his ears turning red. He looked at his hands fiercely. "Let you," he mumbled.

Lister pushed away the bag with his foot, staring into those green-brown eyes, and remembering the last time he'd seen them up close, seen that face flushed with desire. His underwear was starting to feel uncomfortably tight. "Yeah."

Rimmer swallowed. Once his anger had left, his body had attempted to let itself be turned on again by the far-too-recent memories of what Lister had done to him. His brain had very little left to countermand it. He tried to meet Lister's eyes, but they fell back to his hands.

"Bloody hell, Arn," Lister asked, in a low, sweet voice, "how can you go through something like that and not know how I feel about ya?" He was back in that room again, Rimmer's hands on his cock, his own mouth lingering with the taste of the other man. He could hardly breathe for wanting. He's spent too many lonely nights re-living this scenario, and now Arn was so close...

"How am I supposed to know?" Rimmer mumbled.

"Don't you remember?" Lister asked, waving his hands, frustrated, for more than one reason. He licked his lips.

"I _think_ I remember..." Rimmer desperately clutched his hands together.

Lister moved closer. He followed the path of Rimmer's eyes, and ended up at the hologram's tight uniform pants. He swallowed and closed his eyes. "Smeg, man..."

He was close enough now for Rimmer to feel the breath of those words on his neck. His mind no longer had anything to offer his body to oppose what it clearly wanted. He parted his lips in desperate invitation.

Lister could not resist any longer. He leaned hungrily into the kiss, grabbing Rimmer's face in both hands and deepening the kiss with ferocity.

Rimmer closed his eyes and moaned as he pressed his lips to Lister's. God, it hardly mattered what this brought, now. Every photon sang with the need for this. He let go of his own hands, grabbing the small of Lister's back and pressing his groin in tightly.

Lister made unintelligible noises as he grabbed Rimmer's belt and hauled him towards the bed. Rimmer let himself be dragged, trying to push Lister's jacket aside. Lister shrugged the jacket off just before they hit the bed, trying not to break the kiss as he dragged Rimmer down with him. Just the smell of the other man made him gasp; he was agonizingly turned on.

The hologram landed half-straddling Lister. This was not enough. He needed bare skin; he needed to taste and feel. If he was going to damn himself, he would smegging well enjoy it. He peeled hungrily at Lister's overalls. Lister tried to help with overalls and kick off his boots, but his uncoordination hindered Rimmer rather than helping him. In frustration, Rimmer batted Lister's hands away, pulling the overalls down over Lister's shoulders as he ground almost painfully against Lister's groin.

Lister found himself surprisingly turned on by his hands being batted away. His erection swelled painfully, catching in his twisted clothing. He tried to tear at the buttons by his groin, half-hoping to be swatted away again with such forcefulness; such violent _passion_.

Rimmer managed, despite Lister's efforts to help, to pull the overalls off of Lister's torso. He pushed at the long johns, finally finding flesh under the clothes, and began to bite and suck at Lister's torso, tasting the curry-flavored sweat that just sang _alive_ to him.

This was more than Lister had ever imagined, in any one of those nocturnal sessions. He was usually always the one to lead, and not having to do so did something to him that he was almost afraid of analyzing. He cried out, his body arching. He moaned as he grabbed the back of Rimmer's head, needing something, anything, to hold on to.

Rimmer pulled Lister's overalls farther down as he continued to bite and suck, from neck to midriff and back again. This small patch of solid, smooth, Listerly warmth was just not enough, and Rimmer continued to pull at Lister's clothing, wanting more skin, more body. He rubbed his velour-covered erection against the bunched clothing at Lister's upper thigh.

Lister panted. " 'course... I... love... you... " He whimpered again. Had he ever not? It seemed the whole universe was centered around this one thing; him and Arn, their bodies intertwining.

Rimmer could not let go of Lister's torso long enough to speak. His voice was muffled by the other man's skin as he gasped, hoarsely, "I'm going to eat you alive."

He words shook Lister almost like an actual orgasm, and for a few seconds he was confused why he was still hard as a rock. "Arn," he croaked, his voice breaking midway through the syllable.

Rimmer continued to tug, frustrated that he was going to have to let go to get Lister naked. He had no _time_ for this. He growled as he slid down Lister's body, pulling the other man's boots off and tossing them across the room. Lister's dangling overalls and the remains of his long johns flew after them, and Rimmer dove back onto Lister's body with a gasp, _needing_ that solidity, that vital form under him.

Lister lay in a daze, having no idea what was going on. He was only concerned with sensation; he grasped at Arn, trying to pull him closer.

Rimmer hooked his fingers into Lister's boxers as he started to nip and suck at Lister's chest again, feeling the sparse hairs catch in his teeth. He moved up to Lister's lips, working his own against them as he pulled down on the boxers with his fingers, kicking them down the rest of the way with his boots. He did not feel the other man's erection spring out and push gently against his padded uniform.

Lister's hands somehow managed to find Rimmer's body again, and held on for dear life. He moved his hands down Rimmer's lower back. They found Rimmer's buttocks and squeezed them, hard. He willed himself not to come as his erection was set free, pressing into that absurd, padded uniform jacket.

Rimmer kissed Lister firmly and deeply, rubbing his fully-clothed body against Lister's. Lister grabbed the edge of Rimmer's trousers, pulling down hard. Rimmer growled into Lister's mouth and pulled back slightly. "Don't bother," he gasped. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and his clothes disappeared. "I've been working on this... hard-light thing," he said, feeling some slight embarrassment at the oddity of it all.

Lister was quite out of breath. "Wha... Oh... " He caught his breath as he stared at Rimmer's torso. Incredible arms shaped quite like nothing else he'd ever seen supported an upper body like some kind of statue, balancing perfectly on the edge between too little and too much muscle definition. Lower down, a stomach moved up and down above his own, leading down to... He clenched his teeth. "Don't... st..op..." he gasped, brokenly.

Still hovering over Lister, Rimmer started to trace his fingers down Lister's torso. For a being that did not require oxygen, he thought, he was certainly panting very heavily. It must have been a reaction to sexual desire, because Rimmer could feel nothing else. He dragged his hand upwards again, pushing it up to cup Lister's cheek.

Lister groaned and whimpered, arching his body. He tried to hook Rimmer's legs with his own. He felt faint as Rimmer rubbed his erection in the gap between Lister's thigh and groin. He wrapped his arms around Rimmer, pulling him closer, closer, pushing up against him as if he were still soft-light and Lister could pull the hologram into him completely. As Rimmer's cheek came to rest against Lister's, the human breathed into Rimmer's ear, "I've wanted you... so bad... these... last few days..."

Rimmer groaned. "I've been insane." He had. He had dreamed of this, over and over, and hated himself for dreaming of it. Now, he just wanted to experience it - not think. Just do.

Lister pulled back slightly and looked straight into Rimmer's eyes. "Just do what you want with me, man." He swallowed.

Rimmer touched Lister's cheek nervously. What _did_ he want to do with Lister? Hell, what _didn't_ he?

"Just," Lister's voice broke, "quickly, mind!"

Rimmer swallowed and slid down Lister's body, kissing all the way. In the absence of any other thoughts, he would settle for the earlier idea of eating the man alive. He dipped his tongue into Lister's navel on the way, feeling a renewed surge of excitement as Lister grabbed the blanket in one fist, letting out a strangled cry. He worked his way down to Lister's cock, licking the head, making sure he could deal with the salty, musky flavor. Lister grabbed Rimmer's hair with the other fist, tugging almost painfully as he swallowed too much air and began to cough. Rimmer took the head into his mouth, stroking the shaft with one hand while grabbing Lister's buttock with the other.

Lister had no idea why he had not already come. Sheer willpower kept him on the edge for what would surely be just a few moments more, as he bit his lip until it bled. This wouldn't do. It just would not do.

Rimmer tried to swallow more and more, finally sucking down the whole member. He gagged, choked, and pulled back. Trying again, more cautiously, he took just the head and a little more back in, playing with the head with his tongue while stroking the shaft and balls with the hand that was not still squeezing Lister's buttock like a stress toy.

The part of Lister which was not concerned with keeping his orgasm at bay tried not to thrust into Rimmer's mouth, but he could no more stop it than stop breathing. Rimmer grabbed the shaft to keep it from going too far into his mouth. Lister could feel that he was reaching his limit, and clutched Rimmer's head tightly. No, this would not do at all. With a sudden effort of will, he pulled Rimmer's head away. Rimmer gasped, startled.

Lister grabbed Rimmer by the shoulders and tried to move him onto his back on the bed. "Turn around... lie... I want to..." he panted.

Rimmer's hands fumbled for balance, but he let himself be manhandled - albeit rather confusedly.

Lister now straddled Rimmer. He took a hungry look at Rimmer's body, then ran his gaze up to meet Rimmer's slightly glazed eyes. Lister, rather impatiently, licked a straight course down to Rimmer's groin.

Rimmer closed his eyes tight, making a rather silly face. He grabbed for the covers, hands spasming as Lister lapped at him with that preternaturally long, agile tongue.

Lister breathed deeply, trying to keep from moving too quickly. He slowly, slowly licked the shaft, working his way up to the head.

Rimmer sucked in a breath with a high-pitched wail. His eyes were still screwed shut, and his hands began to twist the covers into knots.

Lister licked the head carefully, slowly, twirling his tongue around it, willing slowness. Sex, to Lister, was a game which could only be won if you were the last person coming. And he took a certain honor in playing it well.

Rimmer had not taken a breath in several minutes. His legs were trembling. Suddenly, Lister swallowed his entire erection, and Rimmer choked on an inhale. "Lister!" he croaked.

Lister grabbed Rimmer's buttocks and squeezed, hard, as he came up for air. Rimmer banged his head back against the mattress as the feel of Lister's mouth disappeared as abruptly as it had come.

Lister licked Rimmer's head carefully again, just as slowly, grinning a slightly evil grin. He hadn't done this before, not this _exactly_ , but he could play human bodies like he could a game of eight-ball.

Rimmer was panting, now, with his mouth open, as he stared at the ceiling. It seemed to be too far away.

Lister kept licking the head, moaning. He swallowed the entire erection again. Rimmer could feel his orgasm building up, ready to burst. Lister felt that trembling, and let it out of mouth, hoping he didn't miss his timing, but resisting the urge to cross his fingers.

Rimmer gave a cry that was almost a sob as he felt cool air on cock. He raised his head and looked down his body at Lister, who was now flashing a wide, definitely evil grin. "Easy does it," he whispered.

Rimmer raised an eyebrow. "Easy does what?" he forced out.

"How long do you want to keep going?" Lister asked. He licked his hand carefully. "I've learned - a few tricks... up through the years."

"Long?" Rimmer asked, confused. These things could be protracted?

Lister laughed hoarsely. "I'll show you," he mumbled. Rimmer raised himself up on his elbows to watch, slightly bewildered. Lister started to lick Rimmer's head again; feeling for that tell-tale trembling. As soon as it began and Rimmer bit his lip, Lister removed his mouth, grabbed Rimmer's penis with his hand, and pressed just _there_. Rimmer's eyes rolled back, and Lister laughed again, a gentle laugh.

"Where," Rimmer's voice hitched as he trembled, "the smeg did you learn that?"

"From..." Lise, Lister was about to say, catching himself just in time. "... an old girlfriend."

Rimmer gave a lopsided smile as he clenched his eyes shut, riding the brilliant sensation. "I should have remembered..." he croaked.

Lister coughed. "Yes... well." He swallowed Rimmer's erection again by way of distraction. It worked. Rimmer sighed, one hand fumbling its way to Lister's head. Lister sucked harder, knowing he could now do so, working his tongue with the same easy skill he used to work a pool cue, as Rimmer started to tangle his fingers in Lister's hair. He bent his head down to his chest and started, tentatively, to grind against Lister's mouth.

Lister thrilled at the feel of Rimmer's fingers in his hair. He sucked to match the motion of Rimmer's grinding. Rimmer grasped Lister's hair harder, panting, feeling his orgasm starting to swell up again.

Lister was now pushing his own limits. He let the erection go again, and quickly moved up Rimmer's body. Rimmer gasped "Listy!" in frustration again.

"Hssshh..." Lister hissed into Rimmer's ear. He licked Rimmer's neck and settled his own erection close to Rimmer's, starting to grind against the other man.

Rimmer leaned back on the bed, still stroking Lister's hair. He let go of the sheets with the other hand, and grabbed Lister's buttock.

"Arn..." Lister choked. He was on the verge, and doubted he could pull back.

"Dave..." Rimmer breathed, quietly and uncertainly.

Despite his proximity to orgasm, Lister noticed the uncertainty. He stopped, painfully. "What?" he asked, concerned, his hips trying to move as tough they had a mind of their own.

"Is 'Dave' all right?" Rimmer breathed. He did not come this far to screw up now.

As realization flooded his sex-dazed mind, Lister leaned his head back, and laughed a hearty, thrilled, delighted laugh. He grabbed Rimmer by the hair and leaned in for a ferocious kiss. "Yes, Arn, ya daft git!" he moaned, his heart dancing.

Rimmer was not quite sure what was so funny. "Well, good..." Lister thrust and ground harder, and Rimmer suddenly did not care what was so funny. He moved his other hand to the back of Lister's neck, then down to the small of Lister's back, still grabbing the shorter man's buttock with his other hand.

Lister felt his orgasm building. He looks into Rimmer's eyes. "Sorry," he breathed, his voice breaking. "Can't hold on... longer... He gasped as he came, in an explosion of feelings that brought tears to his eyes, making him feel like a small sun, radiating pleasure. All he could think was finally, finally, finally, until he hardly knew what the word meant anymore.

Rimmer's uncertainty dissolved as the other man shuddered in his arms, shaking in the throes of orgasm. He grabbed Lister's buttocks in both hands and threw his head back onto the mattress again, thrusting hard into Lister's hipbone crevice. He was not far behind, making a strangled noise and blowing out air in a big puff as he finished. He squeezed Lister's buttocks as the pulsing aftershocks passed through him, leaning forward and biting Lister's shoulder as he shuddered his way to a halt.

Lister whimpered at the bite as he collapsed on Rimmer's chest. Rimmer sighed and licked the bite, and Lister, feeling it, could not place the signals his brain was feeding him anymore, and settled for just breathing, savoring the sensation.

Rimmer hooked his chin over Lister's shoulder, pulling the other man tight as he closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of engine grease and cigarettes and sweat and semen.

"Sorry..." he felt the word rumble in Lister's chest as much as he heard it. Rimmer frowned. "Sorry?" he asked, incredulously.

"Didn't last long..." Lister muttered, dazed.

Rimmer cleared his throat and pushed Lister far enough back to look at him. He put on his best Serious Second Technician Face. The one he used to practice for hours in front of the mirror to unleash on the Zed Shift. Lister, recognizing this, but unable to place it, wondered where on Earth the sudden, nagging thought of having to learn how to distinguish nearly-identical pipe-cleaners came from. "Yes, next time I expect _three_ hours, no less, Listy." Rimmer raised an eyebrow.

"I'll see what I can do..." Lister replied, still dazed, wondering if he should salute.

Rimmer snickered, then sighed as his face collapsed. He dropped Lister back onto his own chest.

"Been a while since I lasted more than three hours," Lister slurred. He tried to concentrate on catching his breath.

Rimmer's eyes widened. "You're not kidding? Three hours?" he gasped in high-pitched astonishment.

"Yeah." Lister managed to snag most of his breath.

"Three smegging hours?" Rimmer shook his head.

"Yeah?"

"In one go?"

"Well... As you like, sort of." Lister shrugged. "Sometimes yeah, sometimes no." He started to play with Rimmer's chest hair, seeking out the grey hairs speckled among the brown.

Rimmer shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. The hair-twiddling did not allow him to focus on it, though. He stroked Lister's hair and pulled the other man towards his chest.

Lister closed his eyes and muttered, "'ove you..."

Rimmer sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "You're a grotty space bum."

"Know."

Rimmer bit his lip, then rushed through it. "Butiloveyou." He coughed, embarrassed.

Lister sighed happily. "Know."

"Good." Rimmer ran the hand that was not occupied with Lister's hair up and down Lister's side.

"Thassall... I need to know. Won't... Bother you for nothing. 's long as I know."

"You bother me all the time, Listy."

"Know."

"I would be terribly disappointed if you stopped. If there are any constants in the universe, it is that entropy will increase, and Lister will take more than a normal human's share of the blame." His affectionate stroking belied his words.

Lister grinned against his chest. "'ou still 'ove me tho..."

Rimmer sighed. "Yes." Against all of his better judgment, every Rimmer directive, he did.

"Then I'm happy."

"And I'm sticky," Rimmer groused, looking down awkwardly. He pulled his hands off of Lister and shook them, pointlessly.

Lister peeled his face off of Rimmer's chest and smiled. "I'd... I'd ask to bunk with ya once we get back..." He sighed, as if this was hard to spit out. "But I'll understand if..."

"If what?" Rimmer prompted.

Lister shrugged uncertainly. "If you don't wanna. Like I said; I just needed to know."

Rimmer considered his room on Starbug. He considered sitting at the blank grey table and reading a book he had read a thousand times without understanding. He considered staring at the blank grey walls in the morning and the evening. He considered staring up at the dull grey ceiling before he went to sleep and wanking listlessly. "Well," he said, hesitantly. "I don't have all _that_ much to move. Easy to bring it all back if I change my mind."

An ecstatic grin spread across Lister's face. He waved his hand to indicate the bed. "Wish we could have us one of these though."

Rimmer sniffed. "It's at least two foot bigger in every dimension than regulation JMC personnel rest areas."

Lister grinned. "I love it when you talk dirty."

Rimmer lifted one eyebrow and twisted his lip. He struggled upright. "I'm a _mess_." He looked at the crud on his body, wondering if this was going to happen every time he had sex with Lister.

Lister nearly choked on a half-laugh, half-breath. "Well, I doubt the showers here work..."

"Blast," Rimmer grumbled.

"Can't you do like..." Lister struggled to think. "Some sort of holo-thingy?"

Rimmer enunciated that painstakingly. "Holo-thingy?"

"Yeah?"

Rimmer waggled his tadger. "Is this a 'holo-thingy'?"

Lister snorted, rolling his eyes at the patently absurd image. Had anyone told him, even a year ago, that he'd be sitting here, with Rimmer waving his privates at him...

Rimmer shook his head and started brushing uselessly at the crud on his lower body.

Stretching leisurely, Lister got up, letting his hand slide along Rimmer's body as he did so, not wanting to let go of the physical contact. He gave Rimmer a loving look and a pat on the thigh, then turned to explore the suite, completely un-self-conscious about being utterly starkers.

Rimmer bit his lip at the long stroke, grasping his thighs with his hands as Lister broke contact and walked through a doorway that was directly opposite the entry door. Muffled thumping and rattling sounds came out, followed by the sound of running water. "Listy?" Rimmer asked, frowning.

Lister stuck his head around the corner. It should, technically speaking, be impossible for hair of his length and type to be disheveled, but Lister nonetheless managed it. Moreover, it didn't look half bad on him, Rimmer decided. "Yees!" Lister exclaimed. "They do work! And this one's a mother!"

"A mother _what_?"

"A shower, ya git! Come on then!"

Rimmer stood up, hands folded self-consciously over his genitalia. Wandering around with your tadger swinging is a Lister trick, thank you _very_ much, he grumbled internally.

Lister raised one eyebrow mockingly. "I've seen yer bait and tackle, ya know."

"Well, I don't like to leave it just swinging around the room..." Rimmer began.

"More than seen," Lister interrupted, staring directly into Rimmer's eyes.

Rimmer felt his ears turning red yet again.

"Are you gonna keep it covered like that in here, too?" Lister asked, gesturing at the gigantic shower. It was easily roomy enough for four people.

Lister wanted them to shower _together_. Rimmer's nostrils twitched. He had a feeling that getting clean would be a minor feature of this event. Very cautiously, he let his hands settle to sides, where they proceed to clench and unclench. He stared longingly at the shower.

Lister noted the very Rimmer-like look, and it tore at his heart-strings. "Come on, then. God, what does it take to get you in he shower, eh?"

An invitation, thought Rimmer. He tested water temperature with fingers and stepped in. He raised his head briefly to the stream with his eyes closed, thrilling at the Sens-O-Shower massage beat of water. He opened his eyes and turned to where Lister was flashing a truly satanic grin.

"Good!" he said. "Now... Let me teach you something _else_ I once learned..."


End file.
